The Truth's The Worst I Could Do
by chasingfireflies
Summary: Rachel knows she's saying the right things. Because knowing your actions are deplorable and having someone else tell you so are two different things, and maybe Quinn needs to hear it. -/- oneshot, implied Faberry, 1x12.


_Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. It. Cool story bro._

_Just a little 'I wish' idea from watching **'Silly Love Songs'**. My **WFTC** and **LWH** posts are going to be delayed because of school, so this is me making it up to you guys. For the record, I ship QuinnxIndependence and RachelxIndependence just as much as I ship RachelxQuinn. And now I have kind of combined all three in one (my OT3 is unconventional like yeah). Just to clear that up. _

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**The Truth's The Worst I Could Do (And I Guess That I Have Lied)**

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She sees them kissing.

She _would_ be the one to – it makes _sense_ - the auditorium was _her_ escape before it was anyone else's, so out of everyone in Glee she has the highest chance of walking in. And _boy_, what she's walked in on – Finn tangling his fingers in blonde hair, tongue shoved down Quinn's throat like a starving man searching for _something_. It looks entirely awkward and uncomfortable – what, with the height difference and his generally gross-looking _attack_ on the blonde ex-cheerleader's mouth – but Quinn seems to be enjoying herself (or _something_ – case and point, she isn't moving _away_, so apparently there is some kind of appeal there).

There is a whole _number_ of ways Rachel could react – she can storm out, could stroll up there and interrupt the duo on the stage, pick apart their actions, tear them down with harsh words, could act in jealousy, could take out her phone and film them and send it to Jacob, could run to tell Sam. She could make a scene, or run immediately through every song she knows about cheating to call them out at the next glee meeting. She could do something theatrical and entirely over the top, like she is probably expected to by everyone that knows her, in some attempt to tear the cheerleader down a few pegs and get Finn back at her side as her doting boyfriend or something (because she's supposed to still care about him, and want him, and she _thought_ she did, but then Mercedes imparted her wisdom and maybe she's kind of _stopped_ caring about him?). She could have done any number of these things that everyone would have expected of her and more.

She does none of them.

Instead, she finds her feet stuck to the ground and her head tipping a little to the side, lips pursing, eyes squinting at the two on the stage a little curiously. And she isn't thinking immediately about revenge tactics, either – she's stuck looking at the awkward angle of that kiss, and how Finn's technique really looks kind of gross once you got beyond a simple peck. It looks a little gag-worthy and a _lot_ uncomfortable, and she has to wonder how she never noticed anything like that while kissing him, because she's shorter than Quinn, and that should have made it worse.

And their lips break apart, finally, even though they stay close and touching, eyes closed, exchanging quiet words that Rachel doesn't really care about hearing – she's _seen_ enough – and she crosses her arms over her chest, taps her foot, wonders what to do about this.

But then Quinn's eyes open slowly, almost contentedly. And they stray around the large auditorium lazily until they find Rachel, and even from the distance Rachel can pick out the panic. But she just quirks her brow a little, taps her foot pointedly, and turns to exit through the double doors behind her, ignoring the scuffle of Quinn pushing Finn away and chasing, swearing, after her.

The auditorium doors close behind her, and she strolls easily down the bright hallway, feet leading her leisurely in the direction of her locker, landing easily on scratched linoleum. She doesn't rush herself – not even when she hears the doors behind her crash open again and another set of footsteps – heavier, harder – hesitate for a brief second before barrelling after her.

"Rachel!" she hears behind her, but she ignores it and lets her feet lead her past a couple of the students lurking in the hallways for whatever reason. They're looking at her all too curiously now – _reasonable_, she thinks, because it's not every day that Quinn Fabray even so much as _looks_ her way, let alone runs after her in the hallway calling her name. And it's not every day that Quinn Fabray gets studiously ignored, either. "Rachel, stop, I need to-!"

And Rachel just frowns to herself, wonders why Quinn sounds so desperate to talk to her instead of being forceful and aggressive like normal, and ducks around the corner with an expert dodge of Karofsky, taking the last few meters to her locker. She fiddles with the lock casually, opens the metal door, and wonders why she's not more affected by this. Shouldn't she be plotting, or fuming, or yelling, or crying or _something_?

She pulls a few books from her locker, drops her Spanish textbook back in there because she doesn't need it at all, and glances at the small mirror she's stuck on the back of the door when those footsteps that have chased her from the auditorium come to a halt behind it. She doesn't even bother looking down at Quinn's shoes – she knows how this goes, they've been here before in a sense. But this time she's the one calling the shots, and Quinn has to wait.

So she stares in the mirror for a second, sees that flimsy gold chain around her neck – flimsy like her relationship, like Finn's excuses, like his personality, like _him_. She remembers the spiel he gave her about independence and being better off without him when he handed her the small gold star necklace, and she thinks about it properly this time.

Everything he said was true. But it was fake.

He didn't really care – never had – because the only thing Finn Hudson ever cared about was himself. And Rachel was better off without him. And Mercedes was right – she didn't need to date someone to be happy, or to be successful. She didn't need anyone like that. And she didn't need a reminder of a foolish boy's perfectly rehearsed words to move on, either. So she holds the books in her hand out to the body behind her locker door, waiting until the blonde she isn't even looking at takes them with bated breath, and closes her locker halfway. Quinn looks reproachful, Rachel's books piled in her arms with her own folder, and Rachel ignores it and sighs a little, reaching up to the back of her neck and quickly unclasping the chain there until it pools in her hand.

She doesn't need jewellery and Finn Hudson. She doesn't even need gold stars.

"I have to say," she starts slowly, staring at the gold chain for a moment before sighing again and pulling the case for it out of her locker. She places the necklace carefully inside, snaps the case closed and dumps it back into her locker before she locks everything back up. She'll give it back to him later. "I'm not surprised."

Quinn's quick intake of breath is evident, and she meets the blonde's slightly hurt expression with a raised eyebrow.

"About him, Quinn," she clarifies dryly. "Finn Hudson is a weak-willed, desperate, selfish human being, who bases his actions off of conformity, self-interest, and greed. He has little or no care for those around him, or the effects that his actions have on them. He is happy to partake in actions that will wound others, but god forbid someone ever do something to slight him."

Quinn just swallows thickly, and Rachel wonders how long these words have been stewing in her own mind and why she never thought about them before today – back when she could have saved herself from embarrassment and heartache. And then she wonders why she wants to say them now – to save Quinn.

"He's the kind of person who can dish out insults, but cannot take them," she continues, frowning to herself. With the number of issues she sees in Finn Hudson, it's a wonder she dated him in the first place. "He can throw slushies, but having one thrown back at him is an outrage. He can talk all about liking Kurt the way he is, but he will never once stick up for him publically and properly, even if they _are_ brothers. He will always pick football over glee. And he will speak _tirades_ about the terrible actions of cheating and how hurtful it is – about how you shouldn't do it, and you shouldn't do it to your best friend. He'll say how terrible it was that you slept with Puck, and how horrible I am for kissing him. But at the end of the day he is happy to kiss _me_ while dating _you_, he is happy to kiss _you_ while you date his new best friend, _Sam_. He is happy to coax you into an action you both profess to despise. And Finn will _keep_ doing these things, because he only wants to please himself, and so long as _he's_ happy then to hell with the consequences for anyone else."

She looks to Quinn, who stares back at her with a silent plea, and desperation, and thoughtfulness, and disgust. And Rachel realises that maybe Quinn sees it too – this blindness they both possess when it comes to Finn Hudson. Understandable – he acts adorably stupid, but at the end of the day he's more selfish and manipulative than the both of them put together.

"You're the one that shocks me, Quinn," Rachel tells her simply, and she can't even be bothered to put in an accusation, or to make it a confrontation – it's just a simple fact. "Which is why it maybe _shouldn_'t surprise me – you've never been _predictable_, which I should have known. But I thought to myself 'Quinn felt terrible after cheating with Puck. She got pregnant. She got slushied. She was ruined, she must have learned her lesson'. And I should have known better than to get comfortable with that, but I didn't, so you _did_ surprise me."

"You have no right to be jealous, or to make a big deal out of this," Quinn says suddenly, hiding away all of those feeling her eyes are showing behind that same iciness she's always faced Rachel with. But for once, Rachel doesn't get angry or gets scared by it – she just snorts at the return of the head bitch, pulls a face when Quinn says all the wrong words, attacks where she should be begging for silence. She takes her books back gently when the blonde tries to shove them angrily back into her arms.

"I'm not jealous," Rachel says calmly, and a strange expression crosses her face as the words pass from her lips. Because she hasn't thought this entire thing out, but it's true. She's not jealous, she doesn't care about Finn. "Actually, it was kind of gross to look at, and it made me wonder why I ever found such activities enjoyable. Thinking back, Finn was hardly a good kisser. And if you're searching for - and _finding_ - some kind of magic with him, then you must be _really_ unhappy with Sam."

The thoughtfulness and the regret in her eyes says enough about _that_.

"But this isn't about him. It's not about _me_. I really don't _care_. I'm better off without Finn. I'm going to do what you _said_ you would at the start of the year – find myself, be a stronger person, stop relying on other people. You know – be _better_? This isn't even about _you_, Quinn." And then the blonde looks a little bit scared, and a very large part regretful, because she knows it too. "This is about _Sam_. Because _he's_ the one who's going to get hurt. And he's never done anything to deserve it."

"He can't know," Quinn cuts in desperately. "Please, Rachel. He can't ever find out. I can't be that again – I can't be a cheater, I can't betray someone's trust like that, I can't hurt him like that, I _can't_."

Rachel just frowns, leaning her arms on her closed locker and watching the blonde panic and fall apart. Some part of her should probably be satisfied at seeing Quinn Fabray pathetic and desperate in front of her, wanting her help, wanting the secrecy only she could provide.

"I'm not keeping it from him, Quinn," she says stiffly. "You know, when I told Finn about you and Puck it was because he deserved to know. And by that same right, I should have told you outright about me kissing Finn last year – because _no one_ deserves to be lied to, Quinn, and no one deserves to be used. And I thought you _knew_ that. I thought you might have _learned_ something amidst your mess last year." She sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly before striking that final blow. "I always knew you were a bitch, Quinn, but even _I_ thought you had some sense of morality."

And when Quinn sucks in air like she's been physically hit and winded, Rachel knows she's saying the right things. Because knowing your actions are deplorable and having someone else tell you so are two different things, and maybe Quinn needs to hear it.

"Are you... are you going to tell him?" Quinn asks miserably, gaze stuck on Rachel's shoulder because she can't seem to physically lift them to meet Rachel's eyes. She doesn't want to see disappointment, or shame. She's always been horrible to Rachel, and that girl's probably the only one who has ever given her the chance to prove herself, to be better, to be someone else. And despite the fact that every opportunity she's ever been given, she's thrown back in Rachel's face, here she is handing Quinn another one. And maybe she and Rachel have never been friends, but they're _something_, and surprisingly enough, if there's one person she has never wanted to disappoint, it's Rachel.

"No," the brunette says lightly, even though the word is heavy enough for Quinn's eyes to shoot up, astonished, to meet hers. "_You_ are."

And her eyes go straight back down to the floor. She understands, actually, this ultimatum Rachel is giving her. She can tell Sam the truth and get it out of the way, or she can lie to him and keep that pressing feeling on her chest, threatening to suffocate her every time Finn enters a room or Rachel looks in her direction with knowing eyes. And Rachel isn't going to tell anyone this time, because it's Quinn's lesson to learn, and Quinn's punishment to bear. And it is so _hard_ already.

"Quinn," Rachel calls to her, breaking into her thoughts, but the blonde's gaze doesn't leave the floor until a single finger trails gently along her jaw line, coaxing her gaze back up. "Quinn," the brunette starts again, and the tenderness in her eyes makes her almost want to cry. Because Rachel might not care about Finn anymore, but she certainly does seem to care about Quinn. "I know you like to tell yourself that you don't like me. And I know that you have a tendency to disregard everything I say just on principle, and that I'm generally insane and I like to over exaggerate, but do you think you could listen to me today?"

They wait for a moment, staring at each other in silence until Quinn manages a nod and Rachel manages a sad smile, fingers moving to brush a strand of blonde hair out of her enemy's face and behind her ear.

"I know it hurts," she says. "Because when I kissed Noah I contemplated keeping it quiet. But Finn deserved to know then, even if he is an arrogant pig, and Sam deserves to know now. The truth might hurt, but it hurts less than being lied to – for both of you. And you don't want this to make you – when it comes to cheating and lying, you don't _want_ to be a creature of habit, and if I can see that then so can you. And maybe you won't last if you tell him what happened, but if that's what happens then it's okay – it's not the end of the world. Being alone doesn't mean you're lonely. You don't _have_ to have someone, Quinn. I'm learning that too."

Quinn is crying now – tears sliding slowly, beautifully down her face while she manages a small watery smile at the girl in front of her. Rachel just wipes the tears away with the soft pad of her thumb.

"You don't _need_ Sam," she says gently. "And you _don't_ need Finn. What you do need is to figure out what you want, rather than what everyone else does. I _liked_ who you wanted to be at the start of the year, Quinn. So maybe you should find _yourself_ before you find anyone else."

When she gets home, Rachel will think back on this entire blur of a conversation with a critical and somewhat astonished feel. Because really, she doesn't know where half the words spewing out of her mouth are coming from, or where she found the audacity to physically connect herself to Quinn, and she might wonder why she enjoys it. What she _will _know is that she believes what she's saying – she feels these things, and means them, and she's entirely speaking the truth. But she doesn't know why she's comforting Quinn Fabray, or convincing the girl to be that better person she wanted to be a few months ago (but forgot about when faced with a cheerios uniform and the new quarterback).

But then she'll remember the way Quinn stares at her right now and smiles gently through her tears with such understanding and thankfulness and promise (of things she can't describe and things she's maybe a little _afraid_ to). She'll remember the warmth exploding in her chest when the blonde blinks and nods and ducks her head shyly.

"I'll tell Sam the truth," she'll remember Quinn telling her, causing any of that weird tension to leave her body and her gentle gaze to get gentler, and her hand to drop, her skin to graze Quinn's palm until their fingers tangle in a way that's so foreign to the both of them, but so right. "I'll be stronger," the blonde promises. And maybe their joint hands swing a little, and maybe they're both toying with each other's fingers, but that's got to be totally normal. And the way she melts when Quinn says that soft "thank you," that barely even meets her ears in the almost empty hallway – there's nothing weird about that either, it's just a good deed done, just a potential friend, just some kind of accomplishment, nothing _more_.

"Okay," is all she says back, but that weird pride she has for Quinn sometimes – like when she talked Mercedes out of the Cheerios diet, or when she heard about her 'man's world' performance during Funk week, or the courage she'd shown when she was being carted off to hospital after regionals to bring a gorgeous child into the world – is pretty evident in the soft word. And it's not weird at all when she leans up on her toes and kisses Quinn gently on the cheek and whispers a simple "happy Valentine's day, Quinn," that may or may not be a little early, but whatever, because she's done something good today, and so has Quinn, and maybe they'll be some semblance of friends after this or something.

She takes her hand back and disappears down the hall before the blush can fade from Quinn's face, and maybe later she analyses her actions and fears what they mean, and wonders why she cares so much about Quinn Fabray. But the next day Quinn and Sam break up and Finn trudges around with that gold star necklace ungraciously shoved back in his pocket, and Quinn sits with Rachel and Mercedes at lunch and rekindles her friendship with the latter while she starts one with the former.

Sam quietly thanks her between classes, citing that he knows what she did, and could they maybe be friends because she's not a bad person and he'd always like to have more of them, and he and Quinn are going to be okay even though they aren't together, because he values honesty and she isn't running to Finn. Kurt tells her all about the GAP guy over the phone, and Brittany dances and squeals in Glee when Artie hands her a single rose and a box of chocolates, and Santana is bitchy, but she'll get over it when she remembers that she's not the only one alone for Valentine's Day.

Quinn still gets mono and has to go home halfway through Glee, but she asks Rachel to sit with her until her mom comes, and they talk for a while, and Quinn asks her to sing something by Katy Perry ("purely out of sick-induced delirium," she says, because she won't admit she's a fan _that_ easily), prompting her song for glee while they both ignore Finn lying down and sulking a few feet away from them. And _maybe_ Quinn asks her whether they can be Valentines _next_ year (when she's half-asleep and on her way out the door) when her mother comes, and _maybe_ Rachel realises that this _isn't_ normal, and it's _kind_ of scary, but it's _totally_ worth it. And when Finn tries to call her back into the room and hand her that necklace again, she turns him down, because she knows better. She doesn't regret it.

She already has a Valentine for next year anyway.

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_What I had in mind when I started and what I had in words when I finished were quite different. Whatever. R&R._


End file.
